


Love You For Trying

by HallowedNight



Series: Newmann One-Shots [1]
Category: Pacific Rim
Genre: Fluff, Hermann is snarky when he's sick, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Newt is always neurotic, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:03:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1940364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HallowedNight/pseuds/HallowedNight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermann is sick, and Newt tries to help in his own special way. Too bad nothing goes as planned with these two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love You For Trying

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to just be a little Tumblr drabble, but ended up longer than that, so I supposed I would post it here. c:

Newt was distraught. He was entirely convinced the world was coming to an end, and Kaiju had nothing to do with it. In fact, Kaiju were pretty much the last thing on his mind at the moment, and that was simply unheard of. No, this was much worse than Kaiju.

Hermann was sick.

Not just “my nose is running on my notes” sick, but “I’m wrapped in a blanket, unable to get out of bed and shivering profusely, and my throat hurts, and my eyes hurt, and my head hurts, and _Newton I hurt_ ” and it was killing the Kaiju-obsessed biologist.

Or at least, he was usually Kaiju-obsessed. At this point, the only thing even remotely close to Newt’s thinking space was making his Hermie feel better. At least he wasn’t nauseous; that would have been terrible for both of them. Kaiju entrails were one thing…vomit of any sort was another, and Newt’s stomach definitely wouldn’t enjoy that.

“Running about like a chicken with its head cut off” would be a fairly good description of Newt at the moment, if chickens were human sized often attempted to make soup from their brethren atop an oversized Bunsen burner. Newt had no idea what he was doing; the lab had no cooking equipment, as the only food that ever made its way into the bipolar space was quickly smuggled into the biologist’s room. Hermann didn’t like people eating near his brilliant ideas, Newt supposed.

Eventually, Newt decided the soup was good enough to not kill anyone and plopped the steaming bowl on a metal tray along with a glass of ice water and both hot and cold compresses. Bottles of Ibuprofen, Tylenol and Aspirin were all shoved into various pockets of his skinny jeans; he had no idea which one Hermann preferred for headaches, and he was definitely someone who would really care about that sort of thing. A stack of cheesy German movies soon found its way next to the soup.

Careful not to make too much noise (a nearly impossible feat for the klutzy scientist), Newt cracked the door to Hermann’s room and, when nothing attacked him, slipped inside. Hermann rolled onto his stomach at the intrusion, causing Newt to almost trip over his own feet staring at the sleek, pale lines of the recumbent man’s bare back. Now flushed and embarrassed, Newt placed the tray carefully on the bedside table and emptied his pockets before sitting down and gently feeling Hermann’s forehead with his palm.

“You still feel feverish,” Newt pointed out nervously. Hermann’s eyebrow twitched.

“You don’t say,” came the sarcastic reply. “I’ll have some Tylenol please.”

Newton half-rose for a brief second, then sat again and helped Hermann into a relatively upright position. The two winced in almost perfect harmony as the mathematician’s headache spiked; Newt couldn’t help but react to the other man’s pain.

“I hate when you’re like this,” the biologist murmured towards his boots as Hermann took his pills. Unseen by Newt, who was still trying to hide how truly bothered he was, Hermann smiled softly.

“I know you do. But I’ll be fine, Newton, I promise.”

Newt snorted. “I thought promises were stupid.”

“That’s not what I said,” Hermann replied exasperatedly as he wriggled back onto his side and curled up.

“Well…whatever.” Newt ignored the man’s stare and brought his hand to Hermann’s forehead once again, this time to brush away a few sweaty strands of hair. “Do you feel any better yet?”

Newt could _feel_ the man’s eyes roll even though they were closed. “No. No, I don’t.” Hermann cracked one eye and gazed pointedly up at the other man. “But would you like to know what would help?”

“Um…what?” Newt answered warily.

“A foot massage.”

Newt almost opened his mouth to complain, but thought better as Hermann’s eyes slid closed once again, throwing his furrowed eyebrows into sharp relief against his otherwise unmarked skin. He really did hate seeing Hermann in pain, so if a foot massage would help…

Moving to the foot of the bed, Newt made himself comfortable before locating Hermann’s feet and beginning one of his patented, just-for-his-Hermie massages. A crooked smile curled Newt’s lips at the other man’s appreciative groan of pleasure; he put his full concentration to work on Hermann’s feet and so jumped violently when the man’s croaky voice broke the silence.

“Thank you. For this, for…everything, Newton.”

Newt shrugged slightly, smiling again. “It’s nothing. I mean, it’s something, but it’s no trouble. I’d do anything… I know that’s stupid, I guess, but I don’t really care ‘cause it’s true, and-”

“Newton?”

“Uh-huh?”

“You’re rambling again.”

“Oh, sorry.”

The silence stretched for a few more minutes before Hermann spoke again.

“Newton?”

“Yeah?”

“I…I love you.”

Newt dropped Hermann’s foot in surprise at the man’s words, then yelped and rolled off the bed as Hermann failed to regain control of his muscles before his heel planted itself in Newt’s unprotected crotch. It took at least a minute for Hermann to control his slightly deranged laughter, by which point Newt had pulled his restricting pants to his ankles and was cradling himself on the floor.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” Hermann hiccupped as Newt finally dragged himself back onto the bed and pushed his face into the down comforter.

“It’s fine,” came the muffled reply. “And…I love you too. Just so you know.”

Hermann smiled as Newt raised his eyes above blanket level.

“I already knew that, you dolt.”

“Can you ever say something nice and sweet without also insulting me?”

“No,” Hermann said as he settled back down for a nap. The smile was apparent in his voice, and Newt couldn’t help but mimic it.

“Alright, fine. I guess you wear the pants in this relationship then.”

“I would think so, considering yours are currently on my bedroom floor.”

“…Touché.”


End file.
